


Convergence

by Gowombat83



Series: Cullistair [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: 30 Day NSFW Challenge, 30 Day OTP Challenge, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Avvar Cullen, Blow Jobs, Cullistair, First Time, Gay Sex, King Alistair, M/M, NSFW, cullenstair - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-04
Updated: 2018-02-04
Packaged: 2019-03-13 10:02:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13568268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gowombat83/pseuds/Gowombat83
Summary: 30 prompt OPT Challenge3.- First TimeKing Alistair is gifted an Avvar captive by an Orlesian diplomat, so as not to offend the noble he accepts but to avoid breaking his own laws on slavery he offers the blonde warrior a job- as his bodyguard.





	Convergence

King Alistair had thought of it, of course he had. Ever since he’d been “gifted’ the Avvar warrior by a pompous Orlesian noble he’d had trouble concentrating when he was around, which- being a bodyguard - was _all the time._

Cullen, the unfortunate clansman, had been “captured” by the contingency, or more accurately- injured, starved, and half dead they’d picked him up on the crossing from Orlais and having no real idea what to do with him thought he would make an exotic present to the Ferelden monarch. Completely ignoring that slavery in Ferelden was illegal, of course. Not wanting to offend the diplomat with the new relations between the two nations so precarious as it was, Alistair had graciously accepted, and then as soon as they had left he’d offered Cullen a job instead – 12 months paid duties and then he’d be free to leave. In Alistair’s estimation that met the requirements of propriety without breaking his own laws on indentured servitude. 

As they became better acquainted, the King and the clansman had discussed how he came to be in the possession of the snotty noble, and why Cullen simply couldn’t walk away. Alistair had learned that in saving Cullen's life and besting him in “battle” he owed them a life-debt; they owned him until his life-debt was repaid.

“Surely your gods wouldn’t hold you to this, considering there was not so much a battle as some people saw a nearly dead man and drew a sword on him?” he’d asked.

“They saved my life, Thane Alistair, however little risk to themselves to do so. I would not have lived had they not come across me and chosen to take me.”

“But, _any_ decent human being would have helped! I suppose _technically_ they saved your life but…. to give you away, like a stray dog, like a slave….”

“It was my choice to stay, it was their dishonour to pass my life-debt to another, but after travelling with them I chose to go along with this. I’m not breaking the rules, but bending them somewhat- as you said their claim to a life-debt was tenuous at best, I believe my gods would allow this small deviation.”

“Well, in any case, I’m glad you’re here,” Alistair had said unthinkingly, then felt a slow flush colouring his cheeks when he realised. He’d hoped Cullen hadn’t noticed.

Since then the two men had formed a friendship, spending as much time as they did together they’d learned more about each other’s cultures and history. It was a mixed blessing for the lonely King, he was at once glad for the company, but also he’d noticed an odd warming in his chest when they were together. When Cullen looked at him with undivided attention, with those bright golden eyes that seemed to see everything, it was unnerving but not unwelcome. Alistair hadn’t felt any kind of interest for anyone, not since _her._ He tried to ignore it, it was absurd, wasn’t it? Another man, and an Avvar! But then they’re alone together and talking like friends, and he’d find himself looking longer than he should, stumbling over his words when their eyes meet, his breath catching and heart thumping at every incidental touch. It’s not like anything could ever come of it, it was best to just ignore it.

**

Alistair was seething as he stalked into his suite, flinging the doors open without waiting for the guard to get it for him they crashed with force against the stone walls. Grumbling to himself he paced in front of the large fireplace in his sitting room, shoulders and back rigid, brow deeply creased with a frown that looked almost painful. Cullen followed him into the room, quietly closing the door behind them. Cullen paused in the entrance watching as the agitated man as he strode about punctuating his dark muttering with wild gestures and heated glares.

“Do you wish to speak about what’s bothering you, Thane?” Cullen asked the lowlander King calmly, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning a shoulder against the wall.

“No! Yes… I don’t know!” Alistair was yelling now, “It’s just, they keep _pushing_ and no matter how many times they bring it up I won’t change my mind. They tell me it’s my duty, always duty, I’m _doing_ my duty Maker damn it! I’m King aren’t I? I could have walked away after the Landsmeet, after the blight ended, when she….. I don’t _need_ a Queen, I don’t want one! Not when ….” _Not when I already want another._

 “Thane?” Cullen pressed gently.

“Not when… I’m a Warden, the taint, it makes us sterile….” His voice dropped, all the bluster dying away as suddenly as it began, “the crown has just as much chance of having an heir without a Queen as with one and I’d… I’d rather not have that complication in my life. It’s already more complicated than I’d like,” Cullen caught a flicker of something behind his friends hazel eyes, before they were hastily directed elsewhere.

A natural observer, Cullen had of course picked up on Alistair’s not so subtle queues. Certain he wasn’t meant to see them he’d pretended he saw nothing. But the more time went on, the more he wanted to tell Alistair _why_ he’d been exiled from his clan, perhaps then…. no, it was foolish. In less than a year he’d be finished here, his life-debt paid, and he’d be sent away.

Shaking himself from his thoughts Cullen went to the sidebar and poured a dark Tevinter whiskey into two snifters. When Alistair flopped down into a plush armchair with a heavy sigh he proffered the drink to the grateful man, and took his own to sit in the opposite chair. They sipped in silence, each mouthful working to relieve the tension in Alistair’s body. Cullen rose to top them off when the first glasses were empty. It was only when he’d finished the second drink that Alistair began to speak again.

They talked and drank, slipping into the easy friendship they’d formed as the tension melted away. They spoke of inconsequential things, they laughed, and steadily inebriated themselves. After a while they sat in comfortable silence, when the decanter of whiskey depleted they switched to an Antivan brandy. A game of chess sat abandoned between them.

“Cullen,” Alistair suddenly broke the fuzzy quiet, “what would you do, if you were in my position? Would you marry to keep the Lords happy, even knowing you’d both be miserable, even knowing there would be no heir?”

Cullen considered the amber liquid in his glass before downing the last of it with a quick toss.

“I left,” he said shortly, avoiding Alistair's’ surprised gaze. He refilled their glasses again, taking his seat before he elaborated.

“I was meant to be Thane of my clan. When they… I was given a choice; take a bride and do my duty to clan and Hold…or..” he paused, he was at a crossroads- he could tell the truth, take a chance, it could be a disaster… or he could lie and go on as they were, finish the year and leave.

When he thought of it that way the choice was easy; it was the same question that caused him to be in the Palace in the first place, the same choice he’d made when he decided to leave the clan. He took a deep breath to steady himself before plunging ahead, “or I could choose exile. I didn’t want a wife either, it would have been a lie, it meant denying who I am….”

“And, who would that be?” Alistair prompted softly after a moment.

“They gave me a choice after they… caught me with another man. It’s not unheard of among the Avvar but, as there would be no child from such a union….. As Thane it would be my duty to produce an heir. If I were anyone else… but not a Thane.”

 Maybe it was the drink, a sudden moment of bravery, Cullen would never know, but when Alistair rose from his chair and stood before him, when he bent to place his hands on the armrests of Cullen's own couch, when his soft lips and warm whiskey breath brushed his own, he didn’t resist.

**

He didn’t know what made him move, what made him stand and cross those few steps between them, and he didn’t care. The drink, the mixed look of longing and fear in those piercing topaz eyes that echoed his own- all he knew was that when their lips met, when he felt Cullen begin to move with him, suddenly Alistair was whole.

Fuelled by whiskey and lust and relief they clung to each other, hands twisting in clothing, tongues dancing, hips grinding. Somehow they made it to the adjoining bed chamber, shedding clothing on the way. When Alistair's’ legs hit the edge of the huge bed they both tumbled to the mattress, a tangle of limbs and lips. Still feeling loose from the liquor they laughed at their clumsy efforts as the last pieces of fabric sailed into the dark room unnoticed, baring pale freckled and tanned skin alike. In the flicker of the hearths firelight Alistair was struck by the bronzed expanse of Cullen's muscled form beside him. Wonderingly he traced the lines of his chest and stomach and hips with one blunt fingertip, stopping before he reached the thick and turgid member emerging from a nest of tight blonde curls. He wanted to touch, wanted to kiss, but he felt his nerves rise and he held back.

“I haven’t…I’ve never..” he stammered quietly, hazel eyes bruised with sudden apprehension.

“It’s alright, we’ll get you there,” Cullen soothed, his soft reassurance buffing away the sharp edges of his worry, “Let me?” he implored, even as he began to slide down Alistair’s body. He watched as his lover positioned himself between his knees, he saw the twitch of that delectable scar and the honeyed eyes bleed to black as Cullen pressed featherlight kisses to his own substantial erection. His breath came in short staccato bursts, his heart fluttered with each breath on his velvet skin, every brush of lips and stroke of fingers.

Cullen's teasing drew sounds from Alistair he didn’t know he could make, but when Cullen took him in his mouth his ears filled with white noise and his jaw fell open in a silent cry. For a moment the world stopped and there was nothing but sensation. Alistair felt like he was being tossed by waves, rolling under and unable to catch a breath. He was drowning in the things Cullen was doing with his tongue and lips and hands. He felt himself rising on a crest, felt the pull of pleasure lifting him up and finally found his voice again with a long and loud groan that turned to a whine when Cullen pulled off before he could peak.

When he could open his eyes again, when the raging ocean of lust ebbed enough for the return of primitive thought he looked down his sweat-glistened body into those leonine eyes and was captured. Or realised he’d always been captured, from the moment the furr-clad warrior with his blonde braids and kohl-line eyes had been thrust at his feet- he was a King, had a throne and a castle and everything- but here, beneath this man, he was the slave and Cullen was Thane.

He raised a hand to gently brush his fingertips along Cullen's stubbled cheek, never breaking eye contact he pushed them into the wild golden curls, twisted his tight braids in his fingers and thought he’d never seen anything more beautiful. Cullen's eyes shone with bright hunger, his scar quirked up in that delicious smirk and Alistair felt more than hear the deep rumble of mirth that hummed through his broad chest. Cullen covered his mouth and delicately spat into his palm and reached between them. Alistair was so lost in the moment it wasn’t until Cullen stalked his way back up his body, hovering over him to position himself over Alistair’s hips that he realised.

“Do you want this?” Cullen’s asked lowly, poised over Alistair’s quivering body.

“Yes, Maker yes! Cullen, I want this, I want you…” his reply was cut off by a hungry kiss and he felt his cock still slicked from Cullen's saliva begin to broach that most forbidden delight. If he’d thought Cullen's mouth was heaven, there were no words for what he felt as he entered his body.

As his Avvar lover slowly worked his way down onto his desperate shaft, enveloping him in his tight heat, Alistair's last coherent thought was that he’d never known true pleasure until this moment.

**

It was overwhelming, the feeling of being so full, of the stretch and the burn as he lowered himself onto Alistairs’ long pulsing manhood. When finally he settled fully-seated on his lover he groaned at the meeting of ass to hips, it was deeper than he’d ever been touched before, and it felt _right._ For the first time the pain of having to choose between his family- his clan- and being true to himself, being exiled from his whole world, finding himself prisoner and bound for slavery- it was all worth it for _him_. Who else could understand the pressures of living up to the expectations of others, the weight of the burden of leadership, the loneliness, the need to compromise oneself for duty? Cullen was meant to be here. He’d believe the gods had abandoned him when he was cast out of his home, he’d wandered the frozen peaks of the Frostbacks directionless, and without hope.

That’s why he’d given up. He’d lain in the snow and tried to console himself that if he were to die, at least he’d die as himself and not a living lie. And then he’d been found by those crass lowlander nobles and he believed it was punishment for abandoning his people and his responsibilities. He resigned himself to a fate of enforced servitude until he wished for death. Over months of forced platitudes and odd customs and awkward silences as he followed the imposing monarch about, Cullen had begun to spy the melancholy behind the astute hazel gaze, how though always quick to joke and make others laugh it was more often than not at his own expense, and that crooked smile he flashed at every opportunity that never quite reached his eyes. Cullen discovered a warm and caring man underneath the Royal mantle, a quick wit and disarming charm, who thought far too little of himself, and Cullen knew -he’d never had a chance.

And now, here _he_ was; this lowlander King, this man he called Thane, writhing so prettily beneath him as he rode him. All of it had led Cullen right here, and he’d never praised the gods more.

Swallowed by the heady fog of pleasure singing through his veins as they moved together there was no more room in Cullen’s mind for thought. His ears filled with the sounds of  skin on skin, of moaning and rapid gasping breaths- his lovers and his own.

“You feel so _good,_ Alistair,” Cullen moaned between breaths.

 Hands grasped hips and arms and hair, cupped faces, and tantalised nipples.

“This is amazing, you’re so amazing, Cullen..”

Their pace quickened until Cullen thought he would burst apart with how completely and deliciously _filled_ he was. Pressure built until it was almost painful, but he didn’t stop, he couldn’t stop. Alistair panted and bucked beneath him, he could tell he was close and he was determined to make this as good for him as he possibly could. When he could hold on no longer Cullen arched his back and changed the angle, leaning down over Alistair’s flushed and glistening body he held himself on his elbows, cradling his head in his hands he whispered – _now-_ before plunging them into a feverish kiss.

He knew Alistair had heard him when a moment later his own hips were clamped in the strong grip of his large calloused hands. Holding him firm his Thane began to thrust up into his body with blinding force, fast and hard, the new angle pushing their pleasure to impossible heights. The friction on his own cock trapped between their rolling stomachs was almost too much. When he thought he couldn’t  hold on any longer he felt the hot rush of Alistair’s spend flood his body, his lover stilled and rigid beneath him, pressing them together in a vice-like grip as his orgasm overtook him. With a matching shout Cullen came a bare moment later, his face buried hard into his lovers neck, back arched and arms locked tight about his shoulders as though close wasn’t close enough.

Cullen didn’t know how long they lay there, beyond words, beyond thought, the world ceasing to be. But when finally their breaths began to slow and pulses calmed, he pressed a few tender kisses to shoulder and neck before raising his head to capture Alistair’s mouth with a slow deep kiss. He felt the hum low in his throat and echoed it with his own. Content to descend from their high they lay curled together and enjoyed the wordless affection of soft kisses and gentle touches and sighs.  

When eventually higher function returned it found them intertwined on the oversized bed, darkness permeated only by the low embers glowing in the hearth of the next room. Cullen didn’t think he’d seen anything more beautiful; the play of undulating light across pale skin, illuminating the smattering of freckles across broad shoulders and aquiline nose, cropped copper hair wild and damp, soft lips plump and parted, and he knew- this was only the first time.


End file.
